The Noble Bachelorette
by Support Checkered
Summary: <html><head></head>Sequel to The Dying Doctor. In search of a runaway bride and a missing girl, Sherlock takes on one of London's most elusive and dangerous underground organization that targets mostly women. With the help from the many females in his life, he might be able to take them down. Definitely Sherlolly.</html>
1. Prologue

Damp.

The air hung heavy with moisture, thick and cold. No breeze, yet surprisingly cool, causing her hair to stand on end as she shivered from lack of proper attire. The road must be far behind her, she gathered. She didn't stop to see if he survived the crash, just bolted blindly into the darkness.

Her muscles cried out for rest, but she didn't stop running. She couldn't. Her lungs filled with frozen air, desperate to keep up with her hard sprint through the woods. It took all her will to keep her feet moving.

A stump snagged her foot; her knee struck against a rock as she tumbled. Pain shot up her leg, causing her spine to curl as she collapsed. She lay silent for a moment, willing her labored breathing to steady. She couldn't afford to make any noises. She strained her ears to listen for footsteps, the eerie silence of the night deafening.

Nothing.

Just when she she began to entertain the idea that she might have succeeded, two steely arms gripped her arms torso, a firm hand covering her mouth, muffling her piercing scream.

His hot breath burned the side of her neck as he held her with unimaginable force.

"You have no where to run to, Alice."

* * *

><p><strong>First chapter will be up in a few days, it's written I just need to smooth it over and possibly shorten it a bit. In the meantime, please head over to the prequel to this story, called The Dying Doctor. Hope you enjoy :) <strong>


	2. Part One

"Sherlock, what are you wearing?" John asked from perched on his chair in Sherlock's flat. He had glanced up briefly from the newspaper to see the detective standing in front of a mirror leaning against the wall in the room, straightening the lapel on his tuxedo jacket, his legs unabashedly bare. In one hand he gripped a silvery blue tie, the other a crimson bow tie.

"Tie or bow tie?" Sherlock pondered out loud.

"Where are you going, exactly?" John quizzed, folding the paper over to get a better view.

"Wedding John, keep up." Sherlock lifted the bow tie to his neck and scowled at his reflection.

"For who?"

"I personally dislike both but Janine insists." He switched to holding the tie up.

"Janine? Your ex? Is she your plus one?" John wondered to himself how much money she'd made off the tabloids this time.

"Not exactly my ex, and yes." Now the bow tie.

"Are you two back together?"

"We were never together. That was for a case." Sherlock threw the bow tie behind him as he dropped the tie over his left shoulder.

"What about Molly?"

"What does this have to do with Molly?" Sherlock turned to face John, honestly confused.

"Aren't you seeing Molly?" Long hours at Bart's, his "secret" bolt-hole, John knew there had to be something.

"Be more specific, John," he whipped back around to face the mirror and started to tie his tie in a perfect knot. "Am I seeing Molly on a regular basis? Yes, of course, but I can say the same about you."

"That's not what I meant."

"Or Geoffrey."

"Greg."

"Or even Mary"

"I get it. Fine. Is Molly Hooper your girlfriend?" John asked, exasperated.

"Boring. Remember the last one?" Sherlock straightened his tie, scrutinizing his still pant less form in the mirror.

"Yes, in fact, last I checked you had a date with the last one," John reminded.

"Hardly."

"So what do you call her?"

"Janine?"

"Molly!"

"Her name, what else?"

"No, what do you call your relationship with her." John's fist tightened around the arm of his chair.

"Ah, that." Sherlock sighed, buttoning the top button of his tux jacket. "Molly and I have a mutually agreed-upon domestic partnership, given the circumstance."

"And she's okay with that?"

"She came up with the name," Sherlock smirked at himself in the mirror.

* * *

><p>"Let me get one thing straight, are you dating Sherlock?"<p>

John marched into Bart's morgue to find a rather calm Molly, wearing her oversized protective goggles, giving her an slight aire of ridiculousness that seemed to echo how he felt about the situation as a whole.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you knew!" She pipped, looking up from the open cadaver of the poor soul on the slab. "Sherlock didn't tell you?"

"Well, he did tell me, this morning, as a side note." John started to mimic Sherlock in a mocking tone, "Oh, hello, John, don't mind me, I'm just taking my ex-girlfriend on a date, John, but don't worry, Molly is okay with it!"

"Oh good, he filled you in about the wedding," Molly smiled innocently.

"Which he is attending with another woman."

"Yup," Molly nodded, diving back into the open chest cavity with her gloved hands and a pair of tongs.

"That doesn't concern you in the slightest?"

"Should it?"

He heard something gush inside the cadaver. Shaking his head, he changed the subject. "So, when did you two finally get together?" John inquired, unable to keep his eyes from the bloody mess in front of him.

"Um, recently," she blushed a bit at the memory, "It's still rather...new...The whole thing was his idea."

"What was his idea, exactly?"

"The Mutually Agreed-upon Domestic Partnership."

"See, now, that's just mad!"

"Actually it's M-A-D-P."

"Bloody hell! You are acronyming it?"

"Well it is rather a mouthful."

"In all fairness, he said you named it."

"Am I the one who can't bare the thought of partaking in presumably such a normal activity?" Molly said in her best impression of the consulting detective.

"Right, my apologies."

* * *

><p>"So you love her?" John cut straight to the point.<p>

"John," Sherlock started, fiddling with a handkerchief, "love is an emotion and I-"

"Enjoy spending time with her?" John interrupted.

"Yes."

"Would you do anything to help her?"

"Yes."

"Do you adore her?"

"Yes, of course. But that's not love," Sherlock growled, folding the handkerchief.

John gave him that knowing look.

"It isn't. I do not love John, it hardly becomes me," Sherlock defended, tucking the handkerchief into his breast pocket.

"So, she knows you are...serious about her," John glared at his friend, who made no attempt to responses, "Sherlock?"

"It's...implied."

"So you never actually told her."

"I don't see why you normal people obsess so much over telling each other what high regard you have for each other over and over and over," he began to tie the bow tie around his collar. "It's ridiculous. Are you afraid the other person will forget?"

"It's nice, it's a nice thing to do for the one you love, makes them feel loved."

"Mmmm, feeling," he muttered.

* * *

><p>"But aren't you the least bit concerned for Molly?"<p>

"Concerned? About what?" Mary looked up from her book perched on top her perturbing belly to glance at her husband.

"You know, he's taking Janine...out...on a date?" John sat down next to Mary, causing her to sit up from her sprawled out position to make more room her him.

"It's not a real date, dear," her attention back to her book.

"But he's still out, with another woman, publicly!"

"Oh, you think he'd cheat on her?" Mary put her book down, marking it with her finger at she closed it to put her full attention on John. "Do you realize how absurd that sounds? Think about it. Sherlock Holmes. Cheating!?" She threw her head back, overemphasizing a fake laugh.

"Aren't you the least bit worried?"

"Calm down, it's for a case."

"That is exactly what he says. Why am I the only one apparently still sane?"

"Molly is a grown woman, she can handle it," her book propped up again, she let her mind drift back to the story as she finished, "Besides they look cute together in their little mutually agreed-"

"Yes, okay, got it."

* * *

><p>"Whatever makes you happy," John huffed. "You are happy, aren't you?"<p>

"I don't see what that has to do with anything," remarked Sherlock, holding out his trouser in front of him.

"If you are not happy then how could she possibly be happy?"

"And there you are, I do believe you just answered your own question, Doctor."

John gave a defeated smile. "I really hate you sometimes."

Sherlock smirked, finally pulling on his trousers, giving himself a once over in the mirror.

"Oh thank god," John couldn't stand another second of bare-legged Sherlock. "I dunno, I'm just not sure about this."

"What's to be sure about?"

"I worry about Molly, about her..." he took a moment to think of the most delicate words, "...getting hurt."

"I don't see how that's a problem, the probability of a work related incident-"

"No, not that kind of hurt."

"Oh, do you mean-?" he pointed to himself, his face going for the innocent look as he stood in front of John, fully dressed in his tux, complete with a bow tie, ready for his not-date with Janine.

"Yes."

"Aren't there more important things for you to worry about," Sherlock started, "like how the earth goes around the sun and all that nonsense?"

"Are you serious right now?"

"Why is everything so hard for you to believe?"

"Look, Sherlock," John's tone change, from frustrated to practically begging. "Molly is a friend, and a nice person, and I've watch you publically humiliate her, you obviously have little regard for her feelings, you cannot convince me that you can possibly deserve her."

Sherlock looked as if he had been struck. His smirk vanished, his tone changed, the familiar self-assured gleam in his eye all but a whisper. "I know, I am not completely convinced of that either."

John's heart sank to his stomach, immediately wishing he could take back his words.

"I'm sorry," John apologized. "That was harsh."

"It wasn't harsh, it was the truth."

"No, Sherlock, it wasn't, you do deserve her."

"There is no need to lie, John, you don't need to worry about my feelings getting hurt."

"I'm not. I mean it. Sherlock, I cannot imagine a better man than you to walk this earth, you of all people deserve Molly Hooper."

Sherlock studied John's face for a moment, then broke into his more ostentatious smile, letting out a loud laugh. "Questioning my worth, really John, does that seem like something I would do? Who do you take me for?"

"My God, you bastard!"

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry this took so long, I just couldn't get the details right. Next chapter will be up soon, I promise!<strong>


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